


This Place was Beautiful and Mine

by orphan_account



Series: Supernatural Castle!AU [1]
Category: Castle, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple hunt leaves Dean in a coma. In his mind though, he’s too busy being Detective Dean Winchester and being stalked by novelist Castiel Novak to care. And while the Winchesters are going through drama of their own, one Detective Kate Beckett is starting to wonder if her dreams are trying to tell her something, even though having Castle as an angel probably isn’t the best way to get the point across. Based off of the hit tv shows Castle and Supernatural</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidents Lead to Pilot Episodes

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AR/AU after 7.02 - Hello Cruel World, but no actual spoilers for that as of right now. That also means no Amy Pond. Spoilers for all aired and soon-to-be aired episodes of Castle, so basically, spoilers for seasons 1-4. As far as warnings go, Castiel is a little OOC, but that’s cause I meshed him with Castle’s character and there is use of OC’s for Castiel’s mother and daughter, cause I couldn’t find characters from the SPN verse that work for them.

It was their first real hunt in weeks. And it was a simple one to boot; salt and burn. But that doesn’t explain why Sam is now sitting here in the ER with a doctor telling him that his older brother is in a coma and it doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up anytime soon.

Arrangements are made to have his brother transported to a hospital closer to Rufus’s cabin and once Dean is on his way, Sam finds his way into the Impala and just drives in a sort of daze. But even in that daze, he eventually gets to the hospital where his brother is going to be until further notice. Bobby called him at one point and said that he was already there and was helping Dean get settled the best he could. Sam can’t remember if he actually answered the phone that time or just listened to the message. But he’s here now, standing outside the door of his brother’s room, listening to Bobby talk to someone who isn’t responding.

“I know you’re out there Sam. Just get in here.” And that daze is still there, but he listens and his feet propel him forward. He registers that the body in the bed is Dean and that the person in the chair is Bobby, but it just all feels so surreal. He’s pretty sure that Bobby starts talking again and this time to him, cause he hears words like “brain activity” and “not permanent”, but he just can’t register them cause it’s finally hitting him that that is Dean in that hospital bed and that Dean is might never wake up again.

Bobby gets up and comes over to shake him. He knows this cause he feels someone at his shoulder, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore. He turns to face Bobby, his eyes clearly revealing something that worries the older hunter, cause his face screws up with worry, and Sam says his first words since he crawled into the Impala,

“It was just a hunt…”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Detective Dean Winchester was not having a good night. He had been at home, relaxed, reading a good book, when his damn phone went off and announced that some poor member of New York City was no more; which meant that Dean had put on clothes and go find out why…awesome, just what he wanted to do with his night.

A patrol officer followed him into the building, telling him whatever he knew, before cutting him loose at the murder scene itself. From what Dean could tell, the young women before him had been quite attractive in life. Probably would’ve been Dean’s type if he still swung that way these days, but he brushed that thought off and got to work, pinning his attention on his subordinate detectives.

“Alison Tisdale, 24, Grad Student at NYU. Part of the Social Work program.” Jo Harvelle had been one of Dean’s best friends in his younger years, back before his whole world had gone to hell and he had somehow ended up as the lead detective at the 12th precinct. But it was moments like this that he was grateful for the younger’s loyalty, cause if it hadn’t been for Jo, he’s pretty sure that he would’ve went off the grid a long ass time ago.

“Nice place for a social worker.” Seriously, even if Dean saved up for the next hundred years, he would never be able to afford a place like this. Maybe if Sam chipped in a little.

“Daddy’s money.” And there it was, the ever amusing quips of Andy Gallagher, Jo’s partner of choice surprisingly. Andy and Jo had gone through the Academy together, but had ended up in different precincts and departments after graduation. But when they were given the offer to work in homicide at the 12th under Dean, they had jumped on it, God knows why. And now that Dean thinks about it, before Andy and Jo had transferred in, his life at the 12th had been quiet…or as quiet as it was ever going to be with his best friend, Gabriel Milton, working downstairs as the ME.

“Neighbors called to complain about the music, and when she didn’t answer, they had the super come here to check on her.” Dean nodded and turned his attention back to the vic. He sometimes hated his job, cause it brought him face to face with monsters that could kill such a beautiful and innocent women, like the one in front of him. But it was his job to bring these bastards to justice and that was what he was going to do. Getting closer and kneeling next to the body, he examined it very closely, looking for any signs of foul play or anything that could point them in the direction of the person that they were looking for.

“No signs of struggle. He knew her.” These may have been the worst kinds, only topped by cases involving children.

“He ever bought her flowers.” Oh, and there was Gabriel. It was in moments like this, that Dean silently wondered why Sam didn’t work more hours at the ME’s office, but then thought better of that, cause Sam would be no better than Gabriel and at least Gabe didn’t have access to blackmail material from Dean’s childhood. “Who says romance is dead?” He stood up to meet the ME, who of course, had a hard candy of some sort in his mouth.

“I do. Every Saturday night.”

“Lipstick wouldn’t hurt.” Dean gave Gabe a deadpanned look, which the ME just shrugged off, like always. “I’m just sayin’.”

“So, what did he do to her besides roses?” And now that Dean mentioned it, this scene was looking awfully familiar. Like a scene from a book he had read once.

“Two shots to the chest. Small caliber.” Gabe used some tweezers to move flowers away from the bullet holes, allowing the detective to see for himself the physical reason why Alison Tisdale was no longer among the living. But now that Dean had this information, he ran the rest of the scene on a sort of auto-pilot, even slipping in a few quips at his fellow detectives. No, Dean already had a suspect in mind, and the faster he got out of here, the faster he could get his answers.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

On the other side of the town, the second half of destiny was at work. Well, not so much work as it was play for Castiel Novak, the master of the macabre himself. Signing books, arms, and many chests, but it all had a muted tone to him tonight. Like sometime big was brewing and pretty soon this wouldn’t be the most important thing in his life. Not that it was now, no that honor still stuck with his daughter, Ella, something that had driven his publisher/ex-husband insane while they had been married. But even fighting with said ex-husband didn’t have the same thrilling undercurrent that it used to, and that kind of worried the author.

But he wasn’t going to let it worry him enough that he wasn’t going to stop lightly teasing his kid about not being more teenager-like, even though deep down he was grateful as hell for how mature she was for her age, and he was pretty sure that she knew it. But at the same time, he could also tell that she was getting sick of these fancy parties where she had to dress up and act like a diva when all she wanted to do was lounge around and finish her homework and maybe get in a few rounds of laser tag with him before she went to bed.

“Do you want to know why I killed Derek?” She tilted her head slightly, curious about her dad’s opening up about his work. “There were no more surprises. I knew exactly what was going to happen every moment of every scene. Just like these parties, they’ve become so predictable.” He adopted a mocking tone. “I’m your biggest fan, where do you get your ideas…” He trailed off to take a drink of his champaign and Ella picked up for him.

“And the ever popular ‘will you sign my chest’?” He smirked before answering and taking another quick sip.

“That one I don’t mind so much.” Ella rolled her eyes. She was under no false pretenses that her father was a saint.

“Yeah well, FYI, I do.” If his brain hadn’t been on such a roll, he would’ve taken a second to feel like a shitty father, but Ella’s voice hadn’t held any real malice that he should be concerned about, so he continued on his little rant.

“Just once in my life I want someone to come up to me and say something new.”

“Mr. Novak.” He had his marker in hand and was swinging around to face the owner of the voice, the words out of his mouth before he had even started turning.

“Where would you like it?” And then he got floored. He was standing face to face with a tall, very handsome man with really deep green eyes and blond hair that was more of a dirty blond than a corn silk blond. And of course, leave it to Castiel’s dick to twitch in interest when the guy pulls out a badge.

“Detective Dean Winchester, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place this evening.” Cas almost didn’t hear a word that the guy had been saying, cause well, holy shit that voice. Yeah, the author’s southern anatomy was completely on-board with doing really dirty and wrong things to this guy if ever given the chance. He was so out of it that he almost didn’t feel Ella lean in across his back and swipe his marker from him before whispering in his ear, “That’s new.”

Looking back between the face and the badge, Cas could only come to one conclusion about this, he was fucked, and at this point, he really didn’t care in which way. He was just hoping that it was going to be by the man standing in front of him; otherwise, he might have to take up a complaint with the city.


	2. In Which Dean and Kate Discover That They Can't Win at Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AR/AU after 7.02 - Hello Cruel World, but no actual spoilers for that as of right now. That also means no Amy Pond. Spoilers for all aired and soon-to-be aired episodes of Castle, so basically, spoilers for seasons 1-4. Also, now there are spoilers for Supenatural, seasons 4-7. Yeah, I went there. As far as warnings go, Castiel is a little OOC, but that’s cause I meshed him with Castle’s character and there is use of OC’s for Castiel’s mother and daughter, cause I couldn’t find characters from the SPN verse that work for them.

Dean does not know how he got here, sitting across the table from Castiel Novak in one of the conference rooms of the 12th. He also just really wants to punch said person that is sitting across from him, cause he’s acting like a freaking 5 year old and Dean has just about had it. The author peeks over the top of the letter he’s holding for what seems to be the nth time in a row and the detective snaps.  


“What?” Dean knows that he should be patient and just ignore the guy, but something about him just makes Dean want to scream in frustration.  


“Nothing,” Yeah, like he’s really going to believe that. “Just the way your brow furrows when you’re thinking, it’s cute.” The look that Dean gives the author could probably scare the devil back into his hole. “I mean not if you were playing poker, then it be deadly.” The detective gives up on actually getting anything accomplished at that point.  


“Can I ask you a question?” Dean doesn’t miss the way Cas throws the letter off to the side, sort of like he was anticipating this very moment.  


“Shoot.”  


“Why are you here?” That’s all Dean wanted to know. And maybe if he got a halfway decent answer, he’d actually be able to focus on this case instead of the guy across from him. He did take note of the author’s slightly guilty and shifty look at the table though, before laying into him a little heavier. “You don’t care about the victims, so you aren’t here for justice. You don’t care that the guy is aping your books, so you aren’t here cause you’re outraged. So what is it Cas? Are you here to annoy me?” Castiel took on a pleased with himself look and that was when Dean knew that he was in trouble.  


“I’m here for the story.” He seemed so smug and full of himself and Dean just wanted to punch him.  


“The story?” And Dean was no longer sure that he wanted to know why the author was here.  


“Why those people? Why those murders?” The detective had to control himself from ripping into the author for being such a callous and crass human being.  


“Sometimes there is no story. Sometimes the guy is just a psychopath.” Dean turned back to his letter, hoping that maybe something that he had said had gotten through to the guy across from him, but he highly doubted it, which was proven when he opened his mouth again.  


“There’s always a story. There’s always a chain of events that makes everything make sense.” He could feel the author’s eyes roving over him and it sent something down his spine, whether it be a chill or pleasure, Dean didn’t know. “Take you for example.” The detective turned back to him, the Sam-esque bitchface ramped up to eleven. “Under normal circumstances, you should not be here. Most smart, good looking men become lawyers, not cops, yet here you are. Why?” Of course, the one road that Dean didn’t want to travel down. And he knew that Castiel wouldn’t shut up until he got an answer.  


“I don’t know Cas, you’re the novelist, you tell me.” Yeah, this should be good.  


“Well, you’re not bridge and tunnel and no trace of the boroughs when you talk, so that means Manhattan, that means money.” Dean couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at that. “You went to college, probably a pretty good one, you had options. Yeah, you had lots of options, better options, more socially acceptable options and you still chose this.” Dean couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he watched Castiel flounder through this cold reading of him. “That tells me something happened. No, not to you. No, you’re wounded, but you’re not that wounded.” And then he felt the smirk start to drop as the author got closer and closer to his mark. “No, it was somebody that you cared about. It was someone that you loved.” Castiel fell silent for a moment, and Dean hoped that he was done, but then he opened his mouth again and all that hope went flying out the window. “And you could’ve lived with that, but the person responsible was never caught.” And in one simple sentence, the first of Dean’s many defenses fell. Cas seemed to get this, or at least realized that he had crossed some sort of invisible boundary, cause he snatched his letter back up and finished his little speech. “And that Detective Winchester is why you are here.” The author finally turned away from the detective and busied himself with a letter, letting everything that he had said to Dean just sink in.  


“Cute trick.” Castiel fought back the urge to look at the man that he had just basically profiled like it was nobody’s business and let him finish whatever he had to say. “But don’t think you know me.” And just like that, it was like a door had been shut that Cas hadn’t even noticed was open. Funny how the universe pulled tricks on you like that.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  


Sometimes Detective Kate Beckett wondered if it would be possible to find something that would allow her for a dreamless sleep. Cause frankly, having similar dreams for almost a week straight wasn’t something she really enjoyed…unless they were wet dreams; but then again, what healthy, sexually active woman with a partner that’s as attractive as Castle is would bitch about that? But that’s completely off-topic, what is ON-topic though is this, Katherine Beckett has really fucked-up nightmares. Well, maybe a nightmare is pushing it, but seriously, these are dreams that would be better dreamt by someone on an acid trip. Demons? Angels? Yeah, definitely acid trip material.  


And Kate could live with that, maybe, if she wasn’t the one that these angels and demons seemed to be chasing after. And she has a sister? Or something to that extent, she’s not even sure, but she knows that it doesn’t make sense. Oh, and apparently in her dreams, Castle is an angel. The jury’s still out on whether she should laugh or cry over that.  


But right now, all she wants is to be able to sleep without waking up the next morning and being confused when she’s in her own damn bed and not some shitty motel room with a stick-up-his-ass version of Castle standing over her.  


And, just like in any other moment where she just wants to go back to sleep, her phone goes off, alerting her that someone else in this city has been forever silenced, so she needs to get out of bed and find out who did it and why. The only plus she can she can see in this right now is that Castle will bring her coffee and she’s never found anything bad about free coffee.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  


Castiel walked up to the detective and cleared his throat, trying to catch the other’s attention, so that he could say goodbye and head home to his mom and daughter and maybe write a little. Dean turned around with a shocked look that eventually fell into a pleased smile as he saw who was standing behind him.  


“Well, I guess this is it.” While Dean was grateful for the help that the author had provided, he would be glad to see him leave, because to be completely and utterly honest, Castiel Novak was a distraction that he did not need. Not now and not ever.  


“It doesn’t have to be. We could go to dinner, debrief each other.” Dean gave a wry little smile at that. Of course Novak’s mind was on sex.  


“Why Novak, so I can be another one of you conquests?” He put just enough teasing into his voice that would make the idea, a possibility, but one that he would never go through with.  


“Or I could be one of yours.” Yeah, right. Those days were far behind for the detective and again, to be completely and utterly honest, he didn’t exactly want to return to them. Dean’s face went from flirty to serious, hoping to end this conversation before it got too far.  


“It was nice to meet you Novak.” He held out his hand for the author to shake, which he did so with that flirtatious smile still on his face.  


“It’s too bad. It would’ve been great.” Dean bit his lower lip at that. Yeah, he could imagine that it would be, but he was far past being used for just sex. But again, he wasn’t above teasing the hell out of people when he could. Using the hand that the author was still holding, he leaned forward and whispered in his ear,  


“You have no idea.” He pulled away after that, not too quickly, so it would be seen as an attempt to flee, but fast enough that he didn’t really get a look at Castiel’s face, before he turned around and walked back towards his fellow officers, feeling the author’s eyes on him the entire time. Never let it be said that Dean Winchester didn’t know how to leave an impression.  
And of course, Dean had forgotten all about this little exchange for a few days, until his boss called him into his office.  


“You wanted to see me sir?” Bobby Singer had been a presence in Dean’s life long before he had even thought of being a cop, and sure, he was a hell of a lot gruffer now than he had been back when Dean was younger, but he was a hell of a good captain and had a bit of a tendency to let him get away with things that a captain at a different precinct wouldn’t.  


“Yeah, I just got a call from the mayor’s office and apparently you have a fan.” Dean was confused, since when do detectives get fans?  


“A fan sir?” He could tell that Singer was trying his hardest to not call him an idjit, a nickname that he and his brother had earned when they were growing up.  


“Castiel Novak.” The detective rolled his eyes. Of course, it would be freaking Novak. “Seems he’s found the main character for his next set of novels; a tough, yet savvy male detective.” Dean didn’t know how to take this. Someone was going to be basically writing about him. He was equal parts amused, creeped out, and flattered. He decided to only mention that last one.  


“I’m flattered?” That’s when Bobby became serious.  


“Don’t be, he says that he has to do research.” Yeah, no, that’s where Dean drew the line. He did not want that playboy of a writer back in his precinct.  


“Oh no!” Singer contradicted him almost immediately.  


“Oh yes!”  


“No way!”  


“Beckett, listen…”  


“Sir, he is like a nine year old on a sugar rush. Totally incapable of taking anything seriously.”  


“But he did help solve this case.” And that’s where Bobby had a point. “And when the mayor’s happy, the commissioner is happy; and when the commissioner is happy…I’m happy!” And that’s when Dean knew that he was going to have no choice but to go through with this.  


“How long sir?” The captain looked past him to something before answering.  


“Well, that’s up to him.” The detective’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he spun around fast enough to almost give him whiplash and sure enough, there was Castiel Novak, that smug little smile of his firmly planted on his face. Dean wanted to scream and curse which even invisible deity had thought that this was going to be a good idea. Right now, his chances of surviving the week…they had just dropped to a big fat zero.


End file.
